Single Handedly -- Chapter 3
Title: Single Handedly
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Maedhros/OFC
Time: First Age 346 - Fourth Age
Chapter(s): 3/?
Chapter Summary: “Yes, Maedhros would do well with someone like Kalin to make him happy. And she would make him happy.”
Author: Codi Lyn (a.k.a. i_luv_obiwan91)
Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien and his family are the sole owners of his works including the Silmarillion and his Lord of the Rings series. I’m just inspired by his works and thought of different ways for different things to end as another option. It’s his music; I’m just playing it on a ukulele, not a guitar. =]
Chapter Three - So Many Secrets to be Found
Mîrluiniel awoke early to the feel of some movement at the end of the bed and managed to turn only enough to see two little hands fisted in the blankets. With struggles, a tiny bare foot hiked up and helped to pull an elfling with mussed golden-brown hair, belly down on the surface at last. She fought back a painful giggle to see the satisfied grin on his pudgy face once he’d got to the top. He finally turned to her and regarded her curiously, crawling up to kneel very close to her face so that he could look into her eyes with his large grey-blue orbs, finally smiling adorably in response to her initial grin. The little one touched her face as if to make sure she was different than his other toys, and Mîrluiniel made herself sit up to better accommodate his diaper-clad form in her lap. She experienced the disabling aspect of having no left hand for the first time, when she was unable to pick up the child and situate him as she wished.
“Celebrimbor! Come out now!” She heard Curufin shout outside for whom she ascertained to be the child atop her, and laughed softly before assisting him under her covers to further hide from her caregiver. “Celebrimbor… hide and seek is over, come out!” His semi-threatening voice came closer to her tent, introducing his presence before the elf himself at last entered with a searching eye and crossed his arms at the pitiful sight before him. Mîrluiniel placed her right hand over the wriggling lump at her side and drummed her fingers against it inconspicuously, eliciting even more squirming and a muffled giggle as she tried to keep up her façade of innocence. “Kalin, my son is not bothering you, is he?” Curufin first asked politely, but she smirked coyly.
“I didn’t know you had a son, Curufin. But I’m afraid there is no one, and nothing, here to bother me. He must be elsewhere.” Again the giggling ensued and Curufin, himself, could hardly repress a grin of his own, one that she noted matched very closely to his little one’s. With an over-dramatic sigh, he neared the mattress and motioned for her to keep silent. As his fingers slid under the hem of the blankets, he made a show with his voice, playing along with her and his son’s antics.
“Well, I guess I shall just have to learn to live without him!” He ripped the covers back in a swirl of movement and Celebrimbor shrieked in surprise and delight as his atar scooped him in his grasp and threw him high, almost brushing the canvas ceiling of the tent. “Gotcha! Now I have to come up with twice the punishment, now that you’ve convinced this innocent to be your cohort.” Curufin propped the elfling under his arm like luggage and looked to Mîrluiniel expectantly as she chuckled at his son’s reddened face.
“Now, that’s not very fair, what can you take from me for such a thing? I already am bound to this bed and am not capable of doing any real mischief.” She put a pout on her face and begged ‘mercy’ of Curufin as he contemplated.
“What think you, my son? Is she worth saving from my ire?” The father considered with his young one and set the lad on the edge of her mattress gently, so as not to jar her with the bounce of tossing him there. Sweetly, he kept his blue-grey eyes on his atar and leaned over to take Mîrluiniel’s hand and press his cheek to it. Pleasantly surprised by this reaction, she smiled at the young one’s affectionate behavior and instinctively stroked his soft face with her fingers. “Ah, I see how it is.” Curufin grinned with hands on his hips and then looked to her more seriously. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse his lack of response until he grows out of it. He has not said a word, where one of his age should already be talking constantly. We think it is because of his mother leaving while he was yet so young. No matter how I’ve tried to coax only a syllable out of him, I’ve received naught for any of it.” He turned expressly to the little one and wagged his dirty foot to get his attention. “Celebrimbor, this is Kalin.” He gestured to the elleth. “Will you tell her good bye?” Curufin could only roll his eyes as the elfling crawled closer and proceeded to give her a very quick and sloppy kiss on the cheek, joining his atar on the ground and waving to her.
“I’ll only excuse his silence if he will come and see me whenever he is able. He’s certainly cheered me up, I’ve enjoyed the company.” She waved back to the child as he grinned at her with an adorably toothy smile for his small size. Curufin watched the exchange, bemused, and nodded his consent before asking her if she needed aught while he was with her. “No, I thank you. I think I’ll rest a while longer. But if you should have any books, I would love for something to do while I am awake.” Replying that he would find her some, he acknowledged that Celegorm would probably be in before long with a meal to break her fast and Curufin at length exited the tent with his whimpering son in tow.
“We will come again soon, my son.” The father assured his young one and they departed to finally grant her some peaceful rest.
Yet as her body’s recovery was over time swiftly made, Mîrluiniel made sure she was pleasantly deprived of rest at every moment. Busying herself with everything and anything, she took on every task her caregivers would allow her to do, or help with. Primarily, she was happily obliged to tutor and watch over Celebrimbor, as his father had not all of his time to devote to the young one’s tutelage, and was much of the time busy with other things. By the time a decade had passed in this manner, she was confident with her station in the brothers’ encampment and had grown surprisingly accustomed to performing things quite single handedly.
One morning saw her tending the young vegetable garden Celegorm had given her, and cultivated the plot for, while the ever growing son of her younger lord sat nearby tracing his grandfather’s tengwar on parchment. Having convinced him by encouragement, Mîrluiniel had gotten her ward to speak, not only to her, but also with all of the edhil in his home. She proudly noted that his relationships grew stronger by the day.
“Kalin? Will you show me how you write your name, again?” The twelve year-old requested of her and she stood up and went over to him with a smile, her blue eyes gleaming brightly in the midday light of Laurelin’s rays.
“And for what purpose would you have my name put upon your parchment, young one? You’ve seen it before.” Her gentle teasing always brought a light to his increasingly grey eyes. “Am I to unknowingly signing my life away to your services?” She brought a rare laugh out from his fair lips and knelt beside him in the newly grown grass.
“Of course not, Kalin! I just like how you do it... Please?” With a playful grin she consented and afterwards went back to removing unwanted weeds from her shrubs of un-ripened bounty. The sounds of hooves thundering through the earth reached them quite suddenly, and Celebrimbor jumped up to see who was coming before pointing in excitement. “Look! My uncles have come from Himring! I’m going to tell atar…” He ran swiftly on lengthening legs and left her to gather his forgotten schooling from the ground by herself.
Shaking her head at the eagerness with which he desired to please his father, she almost didn’t register whom he had just announced the arrival of. Looking to where she heard the sounds of their horses’ approach, she clearly saw at the head of the small group of elven warriors, Maedhros, red hair ablaze in the sun as his proud steed carried him closer toward her with each long length of stride. He was a glorious sight in his glinting silver mail and sable breeches on the grey and charcoal stallion that’s own withers were her same height.
Uncertain of how he would respond to her presence, Mîrluiniel covered her missing appendage with Celebrimbor’s studies and bowed her head like the members of her lord’s staff, as she considered herself to be, letting them ride past her and onward to the tents of the actual settlement. She noted a dark-headed edhel, dressed similarly to the tallest of them, rode at his side when at last she looked up and they had ridden on. She supposed to herself that this must be another brother; since Celebrimbor had said clearly his ‘uncles’ were coming from Himring. Perhaps Maglor? Or Caranthir? He fit more the description of the former, as she had heard from listening to her brother and Artanis’ conversations of the world outside Menegroth. Fleetingly, she wondered if she would hear a tune from his instrument or song from his famous voice during their stay.
Quickly she followed their trail of kicked up dust and ordered herself as a few edhil assisted her to gather tent preparations for their guests. Her friend, Veassen, took a full bucket of water for bathing in one strong arm and shared a basin full with Kalin’s well arm as they made their path to a newly made canvas chamber.
“Kalin, here are some changes of garment for our visitors.” A dark-haired elf named, Ruscion, approached with a pile of clothing and allowed her to unload her cargo of ready-to-boil water before he gave her the bundle. “Lord Celegorm asked me to request that you care for his eldest brother’s needs while he is here. Can you handle it, you think?” Mîrluiniel stopped only a moment in surprise at Celegorm’s favor, yet was quick to nod her acquiescence and Ruscion smiled warmly to her before leaving her and Veassen to get ready the Noldorin princes’ quarters.
“You are certain you’re up to it, Kalin? The last time lord Maedhros was here in his brothers’ camp his mood brokered no difference; and from what I understood from everyone’s talk, not long after you came to us, he was convinced to leave quite abruptly by your form of rescue.” He gestured to her lack of left hand with a nod as he sparked a flame underneath the cauldron of water. Mîrluiniel rolled nervous blue eyes to her boyish friend, and shrugged off his warnings of previously heard gossip.
“That is hardly helpful, Veassen. I’ll be fine, I thank you.” Shaking her head she walked away from him and into the nearby tent where edhil were making a bed and laying rugs over the hardening autumn ground. Laying her load on the end of the mattress, Kalin focused on readying the room for her temporary charge. There would be nothing to worry about. It was simply chance he happened to have once been the heir to the throne of High King, and the subject of her rare, yet fascinatingly detailed, dreams.
“Celebrimbor! You’re growing as fast as the Second Born by the height you were last I saw my nephew.” Maglor exclaimed to his brother’s son and scooped the lad into his arms with a laugh from them both. “What has your father been feeding you? Surely not his wretched cooking.” The young one laughed harder and shook his head emphatically, answering,
“No, Kalin makes us lots of food! I like hers.” Maedhros visibly stiffened near them and glanced to Curufin and Celegorm, the latter crossing his arms while the former only nodded with a smile, welcoming his older brothers warmly in contrast to the quickly chilling weather outside.
“She remains in your camp, then?” The eldest of them asked with a pointed look to Celegorm, who chose not to look in any way guilty.
“She’s done quite well in her recovery, as well as post, by keeping busy as Celebrimbor’s teacher.” His explanation was calm and Celebrimbor grinned all the while, wordlessly expressing his joy with Kalin’s situation as his guardian and motherly figure. Maglor tugged the elfling’s braids and looked to his brothers inquiringly.
“I’ve heard only little of this Kalin. Has she still not revealed her homeland?” Curufin shook his head and took Celebrimbor by the shoulders as the lad came to stand before him.
“No, though I confess we would be sad to see her go, at this point. She’s worked her way into our lives, I don’t think some of us could do without her.” He squeezed his son for emphasis and the elfling blushed with embarrassment.
“Shall we see the maiden, this eve?” Maglor asked amiably as he handed away his long bow and quiver to an edhel awaiting him.
“She should be in shortly to help serve the meal. You are correct that it’s not been my cooking that’s encouraged your nephew to grow.”
Not long after they had seated themselves, a wholesome smell preceded her entrance and Kalin came in with a tray of stuffed mushrooms in her left elbow and a pair of wooden tongs in her hand ready to serve. With a deceptively calm smile, for her insides inexplicably took flight as soon as she entered the room of Fëanorians, she gave Celegorm and Curufin their portions of the garden-grown vegetables filled delectably and bowed respectfully to Maglor as she also served him some.
“It is good to meet you at last, Kalin. You may already have been informed, but I am called Maglor.
“I have not been told, my lord, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Maedhros paid close attention to her movements and realized only then how long it had been since he had thought of her in anything other than a passing dream. He felt proud of how well she conducted herself and the grace with which she moved even in spite of her amputation, which had claimed a great deal of her forearm as well as her left hand. Kalin bowed just as respectfully to him, and he watched several small curls fall over her eyes from her loose braid as she leaned forward to place the mushrooms on his plate; careful, so it seemed, to keep her gaze away from his.
Ignoring almost all else whenever she came into the room to serve, Maedhros studied her posture, her dexterity of movement, noted how, and how well she did everything that could possibly have any association with the handicap of her arm; assessing how disciplined she had been in re-teaching herself how to function. He tried and failed miserably to end this infatuation he felt the more she appeared at his side, or merely came within his view. He could not withhold that she was beautiful to his eyes, and found himself unable to control the fluttering warmth that filled him whenever her bright gaze fell to his. However he wished to nurture this growing affection, he knew it must be quelled.
“Kalin, can you take my son to bed, please? I’ll be in to settle him after a while.” Curufin requested of her and, with a smile, she took the drowsing child into her capable arms, guiding him out as he leaned heavily upon her, unused to the late hour. Kalin curtsied to the remaining edhil and assured her lords that she would return shortly. It was only a moment before Maedhros found some excuse to also remove from the tent of his brothers and he strode out into the chilled evening in the direction of his nephew and brother’s shared rooms.
“… Then perhaps you should pray for Manwë to still his great winds tonight. Do you want me to pray with you?” He heard her sweet voice speaking patiently to the twelve-year-old elfling in his bed and Maedhros neared the flap entrance to listen closer.
“But I don’t know what to say, Kalin. Could you do it for me?” With a sigh, she acquiesced, but informed him,
“I will only do it once, to show you. You must pray on your own from then on, right?” A silent moment seemed to assure that he would, and she began. “Most powerful of the Valar, Manwë, please we beseech you this night to stay some of your mighty breath so to keep Celebrimbor safe and unafraid during his dreams. We know you will do whatever is best for Eru’s children and we thank you for all your works.” The Noldo lord wondered at her faith in the ‘powerful’ Vala, and pondered his own swiftness to doubt them so easily at every turn. Could the gods really hear such a small prayer? “Good night, dear one. Atar will be her to tuck you in before long, but don’t wait up. He will likely talk with your uncles yet, and you need to sleep.” Her voice was firm enough to allow no rebuttal and he heard a kiss being shared before a sleepy ‘good night’ was whispered and Kalin at last blew out the lantern.
Maedhros steeled himself for her exit and watched for a moment as she made to fix her hair that had come out of place, standing still just outside the tent while she struggled without two hands to keep it right. Gathering more momentum than real courage, he stepped behind her and used his left hand to assist her right to tuck stray curls along with the rest. She turned in slight surprise to face him and smiled nervously, touching her neck consciously. “Thank you… It’s still an effort to manage a secure braid.” He smirked, remembering his aggravation so long ago over the same incident and realized she was handling it much better than he ever did.
He decided at last, as he had planned all along in the scheme of following her, to try a reintroduction, and inquired,
“I’ve wanted to ask you of you, if you remember our meeting quite some time ago at Mereth Atherdad. It was very small, but I recognized you when you first came to my brothers.” She held onto her stunted arm in front of her and looked up to him from where she had been studying the missing hand, lightening his load to see her glowing blue gems meet his gaze in recognition.
“I do remember. I thought of it also, when I saw you for the first time, here. I believe you left not long afterward.” He grimaced inwardly at that hasty retreat and questioned now if that had been entirely necessary. Perhaps he could have spared himself a bit of the awkwardness he was feeling at the present moment. A minute passed silently until Kalin tactfully asked, allowing him an option out, “Shall I ready for you a bath, my lord? It would relax you if you are soon ready to retire. I believe you had a long journey?”
“It was long, but I thank you, no. I’ll fetch a servant to do it.” Ducking her head with a near hidden grin in the darkness, she slowly started to walk to his tent and responded,
“Then I shall be off to start it for you, my lord, as I am your servant this stay.”
Methodically, Mîrluiniel brought bucket upon bucket of prepared water to his large basin and poured also a small portion of scented oil into the steaming water, mirroring on a larger scale what she would have done for Celebrimbor at the end of any day in which he had played particularly hard. Which often happened daily. She was somewhat ashamed of her own smell once she thought of it. Working all day to clean out her garden and harvest a little, then helping to direct and conduct the cooking and serving the meal, dust from the Noldorin edhil entering the camp she felt behind her gently pointed ears and in them. A bath of her own was sounding increasingly tempting.
Turning from her chore, she saw a tall and lean hound trot in with a wagging tail and sloped back, eagerly leaning against her thigh once he was in. Wiping her hand on her apron, she pet the dog affectionately, loving to give attention.
“Taurvantian, come.” Maedhros’ voice commanded the canine away from her side and, obediently, though with a whimper, he returned to his master and sat on the rug before him as the tall edhel removed his outer cloak. “Thank you for tending the water, lady. You may go and care for yourself. Good eve.” He asked her to leave and began unbuckling his sword belt with one hand, facing away from her. Somewhat taken aback by his abrupt dismissal, Mîrluiniel stood for a moment with nothing to do and managed to ask,
“Are you certain I cannot aid you, my lord? Lord Celegorm said that…”
“I have been perfectly capable to tend myself for centuries, my lady. I thank you again for your offer, but allow me to politely refuse it.” Again shocked by such a terse answer, she barely registered to curtsey and bid him ‘good eve’ before exiting the temporary dwelling. Taurvantian inched closer to the tent flap through which the elleth had just left and whimpered again as if repining her loss. “Be still, Vant. You will see her again. But she will do no more in this tent.” Maedhros spoke to his hound and wriggled out of his doublet and chain mail uneasily, then pulling off the thin jerkin that lay underneath it all.
He eyed the copper basin full of scalding water and warily stepped towards it to brush his fingers along the steaming surface. Unbidden, terrible memories arose before his eyes of Morgoth’s tortures; boiling oil vats, thin whips made of red-hot chains cracking over his bare body, tearing of skin and searing of flesh. Jerking his hand out of the liquid with a gasp of remembered pain, Maedhros stood tense and panting for breath as he struggled to reclaim the control he usually clung to by at least a thread. He looked down at the feel of Taurvantian’s comforting paws over his boot. His posture finally relaxed and, with trembling limbs, he knelt down to scratch the lanky hound’s ears, perked with concern for his master. “I’m fine now, lad.” Tentatively, he passed his stunted forearm along his side where deep lash and burn scars would ever remain to plague him. “Perhaps I’ll wait for my soak until it is cooled.” His murmur hinted at the unsettlement in his mind and he stood to order his belongings.
‘Vant’ was the only soul he would subject the horrors of his memories to. Maglor did not even know the atrocities of his mind; and not only was he certain Kalin would blench and flee at the sight of his wretched scars upon scars, but he knew the haunting and nightmares of his imprisonment would frighten or wear on her so much as to make her miserable in his presence. Maedhros couldn’t force her to live with him and suffer through his defects, both mental and physical.
Mîrluiniel strode out to the roofless stables of her lords’ owning as she often did during the night, walking between the wooden-made paddocks and corrals filled with well-bred horses. Letting a few of her favorites lick simple syrup from her palm, she went over to the arena that was often used for training, but tonight housed the visiting elves’ steeds. One in particular studied her closely, coming up to her as she pulled herself to the lowest rung.
“Hello, lad. Look at you, how tall and handsome. I’m sorry, I haven’t any sweets left.” She spoke calmly to the great stallion, admiring his intelligent head and attentive ears. His colorings were variations of grey, from dappled on his hindquarters, to increasingly dark upon his legs and head, finishing with his mane and tail in a striking black. “Do you know you put to mind my old mare, Randiriel? She was such a pretty thing. Her build was close to yours, though perhaps not as robust; and she was as white as snow, with blue eyes. My brothers called her an ‘albino,’ but I always thought her too lovely for such an unfeeling term.” Mîrluiniel continued as the young stallion allowed her to rub his face and pet his neck, his large nostrils flaring as he sniffed her stunted arm.
As she talked soothingly to the animal, a song from long ago feasting came to mind and her voice lilted softly to sing with the music of the earth. The lyrics thanked the Valar for all living things, animals, and plants; speaking of cycles, of cleansing death, and renewing birth that the elves watched and observed in, but rarely partook of unless a wounded fëa called them to Mandos. Pressing her brow to the horse’s long face, she felt a connection between her and the creature, and therefore was alert as he was when he directed his ears to another sound and she turned to find the source in lord Maglor’s accompanying voice. The edhel walked to her and placed a large hand on the animal as their two voices finished the lay and he smiled warmly in greeting, his eyes shining with the light of the Two Trees long lost in Valinor.
“I have known few Noldor to sing so lovely a song of the Sindar, my lady. Your accent is far more perfect for such a song than a foreigner like myself could try to equal.” His look was perceptive, almost frighteningly more so than she was accustomed to, yet she judged it not to be threatening. She eyed him warily; unsure of how he would proceed with the information of her people.
“My lord can see easily I am not of his blood. I thank your for your compliments, for whatever use they were said.” His grin eased her and he inclined his head.
“My compliments were spoken in all honesty from the heart. I admire speech and dialect as one who would blend it into song and lay. The secret of your bloodline is safe with me, my lady, if you wish it to remain so concealed. Though I must confess I think my brothers and their men have turned quite a blind eye and deaf ear to you, so as to let you remain. Your accent and fair head are enough to ensure your being a Sindar.” His smile broadened as she let out a soft laugh and nodded in agreement with his musings. “You’ve been great good to them, my nephew especially, and I wish to thank you for it. The young one, in particular, for I have never heard him speak, nor laugh, so much since his birthing.”
“Yes, he was so very quiet when I first met him. But I have done nothing to force him. When I first heard his tiny voice, he was singing me a lullaby to calm me from a dream. I have never heard a sweeter sound than his little song for me.” Maglor put a hand on his chest dramatically.
“Alas! Am I to compete with a babe for the sweetest music this maiden has ever heard! How can I possibly compare with such?” Laughing happily, she let him assist her down from the fence and he naturally linked her arm within the crook of his elbow to draw her for a walk. Before he could pull her away from the gate completely, Mîrluiniel reached out her maimed left arm and gave the great charger’s cheek a good bye caress. “You take a liking to Rúnyadal? He has been one of my brother’s calmest horses to train.” Maglor remarked as they came away from the animals and she looked back to the horse while she inquired ‘which’ brother. “Oh, Maedhros. Rúnya will be six winters old come festival, he was named such for how he kicked out of his mother’s womb and the fevers he had that first cold night.” The elleth smiled faintly and then frowned when she remembered the same brother’s hasty dismissal of her aid earlier that night.
A moment of silence passed as they skirted the same paddock and Maglor reached out to stroke the neck of his drowsing mare, a deep brown bay with even darker black dappling along her back and hindquarters.
“My lord,” Kalin broke their silence. “Is it improper for me to ask about your elder brother?” She tested and the deep brunette elf shook his head, giving her his attention in a receptive manner. “Does lord Maedhros shun everyone’s personal attention, or is it my own company he wishes to have no part of? Lord Celegorm asked me to tend him during his your stay as any servant would; yet he proclaimed himself completely independent and sent me away. Have I offended him?” Maglor chuckled and looked to the stars with a sigh before assuring her,
“Nay, I promise you, you are not the only elf to be dismissed for trying to help my brother. I apologize for his behavior, Kalin. Whether he can do it or not on his own, he has always been too proud to accept assistance other than by force or clever persuasion.” Feelings better knowing she had not done anything inadvertently wrong, Mîrluiniel thought of the Noldorin prince differently, and remembered, with a flush of color to her cheeks, how long during her service of the meal his eyes and piercing gaze had followed her. She hoped she had been less noticeable when her own eyes had drifted toward his powerful presence. In front of so many of his brothers, it would have only been too mortifying. “I must forewarn you, my lady,” Maglor began, preparing her knowingly. “That even with as high a regard as he holds for you, his own nature may not allow him to pursue you. He has always kept away from ellith simply for the desire to protect them from himself. The claim has remained unfounded, yet ever since taking our father’s oath, Maedhros has not strayed from his strict rules of manner.” Surprised by how accurately he had followed her thoughts, she turned to him and then away again as she processed the content of what had just been explained to her.
“So he would force his own unhappiness instead of risking another’s?” Maglor sighed, but nodded that her conclusion was true.
“Maedhros is very well known for putting others before himself, to a fault. But he is our captain, a good elf to those who know him. Ah, and the only way to see the true Maedhros, is through his horsemanship.” Mîrluiniel’s eyes lit up at the mention of such, and her reaction did not go unnoticed by the edhel on her right. He raised an eyebrow attractively and tilted his head to better see her face. “So my lady’s love of horses does not end with singing to them late at night? Do you ride?” With a reluctant smile she shook her head and looked away, ashamed that she had not asked to ride at all since coming here. To be honest with herself, she knew she was too overwhelmed to start all over with such a crutch as a missing arm.
“I, I have not since my horse was killed in the accident. I fear I lack the courage to learn it anew… as I am now.” Subtly lifting her left arm to underline her meaning, Maglor witnessed what may have been her only insecurity concerting the amputation. Seeking to cheer her once again, he offered encouragingly,
“Well, if I’ve learned anything from my brother’s example, it’s that one can learn anything another time, and under more challenging circumstances.” Finally she smiled softly for him and looked up, her bright blue eyes glowing happily in the darkness and he thought them filled with every bit as much light as the Eldar.
“I thank you, my lord. I’ve greatly enjoyed our walk, but excuse me so that I may check on Celebrimbor before I retire, myself.” Gracefully, she slid from his warm grasp and bowed her shining head.
“Good eve, Kalin. Tell my nephew to dream sweetly.” Smiling, she nodded and turned away toward the young one’s tent. Maglor watched her retreat until she went inside and then turned himself to where his younger brother would be with his great hound. He entered the dwelling nonchalantly and sat across from where Celegorm hunched over a boot to be oiled. You know you should not have asked Kalin to tend our dear brother, Cel. He dismissed her like anyone else. And he is attracted to the elleth, which may cause his temper to flare higher once he finds it was your doing.” Cel only continued treating his leather as he responded,
“No doubt he already knows ‘twas I. As well as she’s concealed her home and heritage from us; she is terrible at concealing any other truth. And this kind of thing is good for Maedhros! If anyone needs a woman, it’s him.” Maglor leaned back his head in the fur covered ‘throne’ made part of wood and wool, part of antlers.
“Yes, Maedhros would do well with someone like Kalin to make him happy. And she would make him happy. By the way his eyes never left her during our meal, we can clearly see that much. Yet he has himself so convinced he would harm, or make any elleth miserable, that he may never take a wife.” In defeat, the second-born sighed and his younger sibling glanced up briefly to note his exasperated body language, a reaction he had already guessed from assuming the same position, himself, numerous times since Kalin’s arrival.
“Why must we leave it up to Maedhros?” Maglor looked to his brother curiously. “Kalin is not helpless. She has taught and encouraged our nephew-- who would not call ‘help’ if a bear had him by the neck, before-- to talk and interact like a normal elfling again. Why, if given enough time, could she not take the bricks from our brother’s so carefully laid walls?” The elder of them tilted his head, contemplating the proposition Celegorm had presented, and shrugged.
“So we are to continue on as before and hope that Kalin pursues him, not the other way around?” The younger stroked his oiled cloth along the boot a few more times and thought out loud,
“Perhaps we could send her to Himring back with you to… encourage more time in each other’s company?” Maglor eyed his blonde, scheming, sibling and warned with some forethought,
“Careful match-making, my brother, Maedhros is like to a stubborn horse; if he senses this push, he will shove back. And by your move tonight, you’ve already forewarned him of your intentions.”
“But they are not only my intentions, are they, Maglor?” The elder sent his brother a ‘don’t test me’ look and rolled his right hand to stretch the wrist. Standing, Maglor walked over to the patiently observing hound, Huan, and scratched under a chin the size of a mule’s.
“It is yet early in our visit, Cel. Why don’t we wait a week at the least, before we begin to strategize our brother’s love life?” With an accomplished grin, Celegorm set down one boot for another and glanced up to Maglor before he left.
“Good night, Kano.” Pausing at the old name of his father’s calling, Maglor smiled reminiscently and bid his brother a good eve.